Saturday 20 June 2015

Dolce Vita


Sift the flour, heat the milk
Do take care that it’s not spilt
Chop the nuts, grate the cheese
Just a pinch of nutmeg please
Warm the oil, melt the butter
Please be careful of the splutter
Grill the pancakes, fry the bacon
This is a feast we are creatin’!

Self-raising flour, a pinch of salt
Some arrowroot, a little malt
Beat the eggs, grease the tin
Put a teaspoon of vanilla in
Dice the onion, shell the peas
The cake should come out of the pan with ease
Skin the kiwi, pit the cherries
Garnish with a few strawberries

Sunflower, olive or rape seed oil
Wrap the tongue in vented foil
Smoke the sausage, let them hang
Fold chopped hazels into meringue
Melt the chocolate, stew the pear
Prepare the Brie and Camembert
A cup of honey, whip the cream
This desert will be a dream!

Warm the plates, decant the wine
Pluck the grapes fresh from the vine
Choose your condiments, a dollop of mustard
Don’t forget to chill the custard
Fold the napkins, set the china
Indirect light will be much kinder
Draw the curtains, cut the glare
Ah, life is wonderful.  Savoir-faire !

© MDC

04/06/9

Saturday 6 June 2015

Things I hate


The mocking of youths, like an harassment of seagulls, creating a cacophony of activity and sound that produces no useful outcome.

The denial of delinquents protesting their innocence, forever enshrining their perception of the veracity of their behaviour.

Political commentary, igniting a holocaust of public indifference, being promoted by self-appointed talking heads whose rationale for promoting the commentary is completely divorced from the topic at hand.

People feeling sheepish, when they should be feeling ashamed.

People confusing the act of capitulation with the notion that to do so allows an attack on their self-worth.

Things rendered invisible by habit.
The new and exciting becoming normal and mundane.
The tearing of a comfortable shirt, thus rendering it usable only as a rag.
The articulation of night keeping me awake.
Running out of Pedro Ximenez.